Denial
by College Fool
Summary: It's not a river in Remnant, just the first stage of coming to terms. Jaune deals with the aftermath of Season 3. Not a fix-fic.
1. Denial

Denial.

It's not a river in Remnant. Just the first stage of coming to terms. Jaune, Pyrrha, and the aftermath of Season 3.

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Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY. Roosterteeth does, and actually did something good with it.

/

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The First Phase

/

It takes him more than an hour to get back up to Beacon.

More than an hour of anxiety, of fear, of hope and desperate prayers until he finally found a shuttle- or at least a shuttle that worked- a shuttle taking evacuees from Beacon to Vale and returning yet again.

There is no competition for a spot back. The point of an evacuation is to get away. No one else wants to go back. No one knows what the flashes of light, the distant sounds of thunder, or the screams of Grimm entail. No one wants to know, for fear that knowledge might bring its attention.

Jaune doesn't care. He doesn't even care about the airsickness- he'd lost what little he had in his stomach to nerves long ago. He just needs to get back, before it's already too late.

Worried people are waiting when he gets there. Not for him- for the shuttle- but they're proof that life survives in Beacon. That life can survive.

That there's hope.

A distinctive shade of orange and pink sticks out among the crowd. Jaune rushes to what's left- no, to the other half of his team. It's Nora, who's with Ren, and even if they're both grimacing and gripping their sides he can't be bothered to worry. They'll survive. They'll live.

"Where's Pyrrha?" are his first words, rather than any concern over their wounds. (They'll walk it off and climb into a bullhead themselves. They'll live. They aren't important right now.)

They startle, and turn towards him, and there's fear in their eyes. It must be for him- it must be. He hasn't been in touch since he threw his scroll and broke it. He could have been hurt since he talked to Weiss. There had been no way for them to know, but he's too impatient to reassure them with what their eyes can already see. He's in a hurry. He isn't important. He wasn't in danger. He was never in danger because-

 _-No Pyrrha don't do this-_

"Jaune."

Nora said it first, and Ren says it the second time, but it's Weiss's repetition that catches his attention. He only now notices the heiress who was not five feet away from Nora and Ren, his first love of Beacon who he made a fool out of himself for because he was a fool for not noticing Pyrrha, and she isn't important right now unless she can give the answer. Neither is the pale and unresponsive form of Ruby in her lap, because Ruby is breathing and will probably survive so she's not important either because the only thing that matters is-

"Where is Pyrrha?" Jaune repeats, louder and clearer this time but also with more force. Harder. More desperate. Not out of breath, but not in the mood for games because this is no game and there is a wrong answer.

"Jaune," Nora begins, as if trying to steady him as if he's unsteady, which he is _not_ because he is _perfectly_ fine even _someone_ threw him in a rocket locker when she _knows_ he gets airsick and _when he gets hands on her_ she is going to get _such_ a scolding even if she _is_ the invincible woman because-

"Jaune," Nora repeats, "Pyrrha didn't make it."

He stops. He stills. And then- very slowly- he laughs.

"Ha, ha, ha," he laughs with absolutely no humor at all. "Not funny, Nora," he says as serious as the grave. "I'm not in the mood for your jokes."

Silly Nora, always trying to throw people off balance at the worst of times.

"I'm not joking, Jaune," his usually bubbly teammates insists, carrying her prank too far even as she fakes a convincing sob. "Pyrrha, she's-"

"She's not!" he shouts, cutting her off. "She's not!" he repeats, emphasizing what must be. "If you don't know where she is, just say so, and I'll go looking! I'll find her and-"

"Jaune." It's Weiss again- looking at him with sadness and regret and a hit of pity he doesn't need, and she extends an open hand with pieces of red metal. Red as the autumn leaves, molten and cooled at the ends, and with a familiar gild of copper on the sharpened edges.

 _Milo._

"No…" he whispers even as he reaches outs and picks up the shards of Pyrrha's weapon. There's no way he could not recognize it- not after how many times the flat of the blade had walloped him in the head. They're real, and they weigh in his hand as cooled molten metal feels.

This is- this is bad. Pyrrha would never leave Milo behind willingly. She must be lost, she could be hurt, why are they waiting around? They need to organize a search and-

"It was all we could find," Weiss whispers, looking down and away and showing only the profile and the scar he'd once found so flattering.

His hand clenches, but he only feels the stinging in his eyes. The world blurs and the scar fades out of focus as tears threaten to fall.

"No no no!" he denies, voice rising. "You're lying! You all are!" Someone- maybe her, maybe Nora, maybe someone else, someone calls his name, but he ignores it. "You're just pulling a prank on me, aren't you? This is payback for all the times I flirted with you!"

"Jaune, no, I wouldn't-" Snow Angel begins, but he's barely hearing her over the sound of his own desperation.

"You are! You have to be!" he shouts, hard enough that Weiss's eyes almost widen in surprise. "Pyrrha's probably right behind me, and this is just a mean joke, isn't it?" his voice cracks as it reaches hysterical levels, and his fists squeeze tighter. "Just a laugh at stupid old Jaune, tossed in a locker once again, hey let's do something when he gets back. This'll be funny!"

Weiss's eyes really do widen this time, but in alarm as the stinging moves from his eyes to his fist.

"Jaune, stop! Your hand!" she warns, even though she's too burdened by Ruby in her lap to do anything more than reach out.

"Great joke, Pyrrha!" Jaune cries straight up into the heavens, loud and clear for everyone around and anyone behind him. "You can come out now!"

Weiss isn't the only one shouting his name, others are to, and bystanders are staring and pointing and saying things in horror as tears drip from his face and something else drops from the hand holding the shards. He doesn't know why they're worried- he's holding Milo tight and safe to return when Pyrrha comes back.

There's a blur of green in the corner of his watery vision, and for a moment he hopes they'll be green eyes, even as a feeling of lightheadedness overtakes him. The eyes aren't green, they're pink, and Jaune never feels the aura-assisted blow or the arms catching him as he falls.

All he can think is that Pyrrha will be disappointed he couldn't take a joke.

/

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Author Notes:

Do you like happy stories with death-denying endings and alternative outcomes to canon? Then this is not the fic for you. You probably misread the genre tags.

This is my reaction to the season three ending, and the wave of fics we've seen in response. Kudos, RT, for inspiring such a response. Kudos.


	2. Anger

Denial.

It's not a river in Remnant. Just the first stage of coming to terms. Jaune, Pyrrha, and the aftermath of Season 3.

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Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY. Roosterteeth does, and actually did something good with it.

/

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The Second Phase

/

Jaune hasn't smiled for what feels likes days, and won't smile for many more.

His hand _stings_ , no matter how many bandages they use or how much ointment they slather on it, and worse than that it itches. And the more bandages they add- and there's a great many already- the less he can rub and get any sort of relief.

They say he's lucky he still has use of his hand. He thinks they're lucky they managed to pass medical school. Pyrrha would have fixed it with ease. A flick of her hand, a bit of her semblance, and any shards would have levitated up with ease. And then she'd smile, and twist her hands, and do something impossible with them like, like make a hairpin or something, before gently but firmly binding the wound and telling him not to scratch it.

Stupid doctors. They weren't half as good. They can't even take care of a simple headache.

Stupid Ren, for doing that. Whether it was the blow or the fall, he doesn't know and he doesn't care. Green prick who was out helping people like some self-righteous prick, while Jaune was stuck in the infirmary as an invalid just because he hurt a hand and they wanted to keep an eye on him. He needed to rest, they said. He needed to heal. So they banished him to a corner where all he could do was watch over a still unconscious Ruby, and maybe lend Yang a hand when she woke up. Because he was _wounded._

Yeah, right. Wounded was what people who fought Grimm and White Fang were. Wounded was what you called people who were mauled by monsters trying to eat them, but survived a vengeful massacre, and honorably earned their scars. Wounded was General Ironwood, who walked out of burning bullhead crash and retook a warship and ended the rampage of his robot army. Wounded was Blake, still recovering from surgery to her stomach, or Yang who was facing infection, or maybe even Ruby for whatever spirits-know-what power she pulled off.

He wasn't wounded by the enemy. He was self-inflicted. He was incompetent.

Fuck him. Fuck him, fuck him, fuck him. Of course he was. Why was he surprised? That's how he'd gotten in in the first place. He'd had one job- one job, Jaune!- and he hadn't protected one woman on life support long enough for Pyrrha to save the day. Hadn't even just stood, armor and shield and meatshield, to protect one maiden, let alone two. No wonder Pyrrha ditched him.

And fuck her to! No, don't do that- she probably wanted that. Damn her, then. Damn her, because who gave her the right to decide what was right for him? To save his life? It was his risk to take! He knew the risks when he came to Beacon, even if he knew nothing else when he lied his way in. He was a Huntsman-in-training to! He wasn't a coward, he was her partner! She chose him, for no good reason, and then she threw him away for even less! It's her own damn fault she's dead!

And Cinder's. Fuck Cinder. No, really- he's not an evil man, or a lustful one, but if he had his hands- hand- on her right now, he'd make it hurt even as he strangled her. Murderer. Manipulator. Madwoman. No one knows where she is, but no matter where she is it isn't bad enough.

Maybe Ruby's there too, wherever off in lala land she is. Oooh, Ruby Rose, the silver-eyed wonder girl! Miracle worker, magic powers, victory in a bottle who sent Cinder packing and froze a dragon and who knows what else. (Because, really, what the fuck did she do? No one knows.)

And what'd the fastest girl in Beacon do, besides taking her own sweet time to get to Pyrrha when Pyrrha was fighting and risking her life for everyone but him?

Nothing! What's the point of amazing powers and legendary potential if you can't save anyone with them?

But she wasn't the worst. Oh no indeed. Ruby wasn't the worst. That particular honor went to the greatest offender, the worst oath breaker, the-

"Jaune?" Weiss asked from the door, not turning on the lights in case the answer to her next question was no. "Are you awake?"

Cold blue eyes snapped open, and an aura-lit glare illustrated just how stupid a question that was. Speak of the devil…

"What do you want?" he spits out. Growls, almost- if only because he's parched and hasn't had anything to drink all day as he stewed in the venom and hate of his own mind.

She pauses- still taken aback at the stranger that's replaced the blonde goof with kind blue eyes who'd so annoyed her so recently ago- but she steps forward anyway. Though she stays far out of reach.

"I came-" she begins, "I came to say goodbye."

He not sure whether he says "Good riddance," or nothing at all. She pauses all the same, and deigns to explain regardless.

"My… father," she says, as if making a great admission, "has come to take me home. I'm to leave Vale immediately. For my own safety." She doesn't sound pleased with the honor.

He almost says good riddance again. He doesn't, because maybe he already did, but it echoes all the same as a hostile silence falls. He glares. She tries to meet it. She looks away, as she has every time they've looked at eachother since he woke up.

"Jaune," she tries once more, "I know you're hurting right now, and I may not be the best person for this, but-"

"You're not," he agrees, as venomously as possible. "You're not the best person. Pyrrha is dead because of you."

She really does flinch. It's all the opening he needs.

"You were there. You could have helped. I _begged_ you to help," he reminds her, as if she doesn't remember his desperate plea every time she looks at him already. "I asked for your help, and you went back on your word and let Pyrrha die!"

"There was nothing I could do!" Weiss protests, and if she had let there be a sob it would have become a wail but it's just an earnest protestation of truth.

As if the truth matters now.

"What do you mean there was nothing you could do?" Jaune rails. "You're Weiss Schnee! You're practically perfect!"

"I'm not perfect!" she protests. "I tried, I wasn't good enough, I-"

"How could you not be good enough?!" Jaune roars, not caring that that Yang stirs despite the anesthetic and that Blake might be faking being out and that Ruby hasn't stirred in days and some whisper may never stir again. "You're Weiss Schnee!" he repeats, as if that alone explains things. "You're strong! You're brave! You can do practically everything I can't!"

"I couldn't save Pyrrha," she whispers, eyes dropping in shame once again, and Jaune struggles to find a response to carry on.

"How?" Jaune asks, only this time it's almost strangled by a sob. "I trusted you. I loved you once. I really did. But Pyrrha, she-"

This time there really is a sob.

"She loved me, Weiss."

"I know."

It's the admission that opens the flood gate, an utterly unmanly sobs wrack him. He doesn't know when he remembers to breath, doesn't know when she moved, but the next thing he knows- moments later? Minutes?- she's doing what she never would have done a month ago and is embracing him in an awkward hug as he cries into her.

She doesn't even complain when he turns her shoulder into a snot rag.

"She really loved me," he repeats, when he's able, or at least able to be understood without a sniffle.

"I know," Weiss whispers. "I knew." She doesn't say that's why she rejected his feelings- it probably isn't- but it's just as true and honest and that's what he needs right now.

"Then why did she do it?" he wants to know. "Why did she leave me like that?"

Why did she do what he'd always feared, and might as well have put him in a tree as she went off to play the hero and die a martyr? He'd told her, back on the roof on that time ago, how much he didn't want that.

Weiss gives a slight squeeze, the most support she can muster with her own restrained tears. "Because she loved you," she reassures with a tight throat.

"I don't want her love. I want Pyrrha," he moans petulantly, and more tears fall, though at least this time there are fewer sobs.

She lets him cry. She lets him take the last of the time she has in Vale, if only because there's no one else here she'd prefer to spend them with more. Neptune is gone, with the rest of the visiting students. Her team is out of commission. The rest of his is out working. This is the last thing she can do to help.

It doesn't even occur to him that she might _want_ to spend time with him. That she might hold him in higher regard now, and want to help him.

When he's done- when he's run out of tears for the moment and his breathing calms- she separates and gives him space he really doesn't really want.

"I have to go now, Jaune" she says, sincerely apologetic. "Can I ask you a favor?" she asks, as if she isn't already asking for one by asking for one.

Jaune manages a jerky nod, not trusting himself to speak.

"When you can," she manages, indicating her fallen teammates, "can you tell them I'm sorry? That I didn't want to leave?" she asks.

That she didn't want to leave without saying goodbye in person- that she didn't want to leave before they awoke- that she didn't want to leave them at all. That she wants to return, and will as soon as she can, and hopes with all her heart that when she does there will still be a place in their hearts for the acerbic Schnee who had never been happier than her first semester at Beacon, trials and travails and unwanted suitors all.

Jaune nods again, a bit steadier this time. "Promise," he manages, and that's all that he needs to for her shoulders to loosen just a little in relief.

Weiss turns to leave, but pauses in the door on her way out. She shoots him a look- of sorrow, of pity, and maybe sincere concern.

"Jaune, I _am_ sorry," she claims, at last looking him in the eye. "About Pyrrha."

"Sorry won't bring Pyrrha back," he says, bitter without meaning to be.

Only later, when he's alone in the dark and no one else stirs, does he wonder if those were the last words Weiss would take away from Beacon.

/

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Author Notes:

If you guessed the Kubler-Ross model, you are correct. If you've no idea what the Kubler-Ross model is, consider this your invitation to learn.

During the finale, I both liked and felt odd that Jaune called Weiss on the scroll to ask for help for Pyrrha. On one hand, it was actually a good choice by writers of showing that the Jaune and Weiss were back on speaking terms after the horrible, horrible flirting. That's the sort of thing that, in real life, can get people too awkward to talk to eachother for the rest of their lives. Given that they'd barely acknowledged eachother's existence, asking for help showed trust and good regard.

On the other hand... it was weird that he called her, rather than Ruby, because there had been that lack of established contact. When did they start talking? How did he even get her number? Limitation of the medium, but also less set-up.

Still, was glad to see it, and it helped set up this. I'm sure there are White Rose shippers who will write endlessly about the heartbreak of separation, but I think Weiss and Ruby both will have a bit of guilt over Pyrrha as well.


	3. Bargaining

Denial.

It's not a river in Remnant. Just the first stage of coming to terms. Jaune, Pyrrha, and the aftermath of Season 3.

/

Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY. Roosterteeth does, and actually did something good with it.

/

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The Third Phase

/

He wakes up running out of the door of Beacon, and knows immediately when he is.

The smoke. The screams. The flames and the carnage and the chaos, as monsters of Grimm and more humanoid sorts savage the hope of a Kingdom as they try to snuff out the light of its greatest protectors. It's almost a welcome sight, because he turns his head and beside him, right where she should be, is Pyrrha. His partner. Pyrrha. It doesn't matter what order he says them in, or how many times he says it, because so long as she is there all is right.

He doesn't stop to wonder the how and the why. Time travel? Reincarnation? Alternate timelines? Too many comics, too many books, too many ideas cover such a simple thing that he won't question lest he question too hard. Whatever it is, it's a second chance. Another chance to make things right.

Jaune picks up the pace and sprints faster. Last time they'd slowed down as they crossed the boundary. Taken in the horror, given her a chance to think. This time he won't. He'll show initiative- make that decision- and lead her to their friends. They'll do the honorable thing and defend the wounded and the survivors. They'll fight Cinder as a group if they must, but hopefully they can avoid fighting her at all, and leave the villainess to the teachers who should know better.

Jaune speeds up. Pyrrha slows to a stop.

"This isn't how it's supposed to go," she says, almost mystic with a source of wonder.

He can't keep running. He can't leave her behind. Never again. "Pyrrha, there's no time! Come on!" he urges, willing her to follow him to safety and survival.

"This isn't how it's goes," she says again, more certain. "You know that."

His eyes widen. She knows. He knows she knows. And she knows he knows she knows.

"That doesn't matter, Pyrrha," he says, coming back to pull her away. To drag her away by force if he has to, but he can't, he never could. His feet move, but they slide, and there's a sensation of running in a pool- of pushing through molasses no matter how hard he tries- and Pyrrha doesn't even seem to notice.

She tilts her head instead, almost curious. "But it does matter, doesn't it?" she asks. "This is where I die. That's why you want to change it so much."

"It doesn't have to be. It shouldn't be," Jaune counters. "You didn't have to die, Pyrrha. It can be different this time. You can live."

"Can I?" she asks. "Truly?"

"Yes!" Jaune exclaims. "if Ruby gets there faster- or you never go there at all- or if we come up with a plan- it doesn't matter how, but you don't have to lose!"

She tilts her head again. "Lose? I am Pyrrha Nikos. I always win, even in defeat. It's who I am."

"You'll die!" Jaune protested.

"You'll live," Pyrrha counters, and reaches out to cup his cheek with a tender expression. "If you live, I am victorious, no matter what happens to me. There is not a world where you live that I truly fail, no matter the cost. That is my victory." A curious look passes her face, as she mutters to her elf. "My victory. Pyrrha's victory. Pyrrha victory? No, that's not quite right…" she mutters.

Jaune grabs her hand, partly to get her attention but mostly to grab and not let go. "Don't go alone," he begs. "I'll go with you. Then we can go down as the heroes of Beacon, just the two of us," he suggests.

Pyrrha smiles, but doesn't let him pull her away. "That is rather tempting," she admits, "but I'd rather you live than be a martyr with me. I hope I made that clear before."

He hadn't meant to die, meant that they'd fight together, but he doesn't argue, and turns to another alternative.

"Then not me," Jaune negotiates. "Take someone else. Take Ruby. She'll be here soon. If you take her, she can use whatever that power of hers is, and she can beat Cinder. Take Ruby," he urges.

Pyrrha gives him a sympathetic smile, but the same as she always gave when he gave a bad answer to a mock quiz. "And if I need to die for her to awaken?" she asks.

"Then take Weiss!" Jaune proposes. "She'll be there as well! Or find a teacher, or anyone! Just don't go up there alone!" he begs.

Pyrrha's smile is full of sympathetic sadness. "There's no one else around. No one else could stall Cinder for as long as I did. You know that," she knew.

"I don't care," Jaune claims.

"Your expression says otherwise. You lie," Pyrrha returns, letting go and turning around to look up the tower. To look at the flames and the shadow and burning eyes of the woman who will be her death. She looks contemplative, but not afraid, and Jaune can see what he never noticed before- how beautiful she was- is- could be- when determined.

He has one card left to play.

"I love you," he says.

Pyrrha stills, and he carries on because her life depends on it.

"I love you," he reaffirms, "and I don't want you to leave me. Stay with me, Pyrrha," he urges. "Stay with me, and I'll never leave your side. I'll never look at another woman. I'll make you happy, as I should have from the day I met you."

She turns around, and slowly puts her hand back to his cheek. "I think you already have. But do you mean that?" she asks, looking at his face for any hint of dishonesty.

"I swear," he says solemnly, nodding, and looking straight in the eyes.

"You love me?" she asks.

"Always," he affirms.

Pyrrha smiles, eyes closing.

"You lie."

His world- the world- seems to fracture. "No, Pyrrha, I-"

"You don't love me," she says, but she doesn't sound offended, it's not an accusation. "Not like I love you. Everything you did for me, you did as a friend, and you would have done for any of us. I liked that about you- I love that about you- but you weren't my friend because you loved me. I loved you because you were my friend. And what you're doing- even now" She gestures to indicate him, and... this. "You'd offer yourself for any of us, if that's what it'd take to save us. We're all special to you, which is a nice way to say none of us are." She smiled at him. "I liked that about you," she admitted. "That I was special like everyone else."

"I could change that," Jaune crumbles. "I could change just for you. Put you above everyone else."

Pyrrha's hand loosely grips his jaw, and pull him close to a soft kiss. The same kiss as before- his first, and last, with her.

"You could," she admits when she parts. "But I don't want to change you like that. I want you to live, even if I won't be there to see it."

"I don't want that," Jaune begs. "I don't want to live without you."

Pyrrha smiles, that slight smirk she only shared with him. "Then I'll be selfish, and do with what I want instead." Despite what she says, despite the smirk, she still strokes his cheek tenderly, regretfully.

"Pyrrha, please," Jaune begs, closing the distance and hugging her as tight as he can. "Don't leave me behind."

"You'll be fine, Jaune," she reassures into his ear, hugging him back. "I'm just going on ahead, that's all. It may be hard, but if you keep moving forward you'll catch up eventually." She laughs, though, the laugh none of her fans had ever heard but only her friends and always for him. "I hope you don't mind if I don't want to see you again for some time, Jaune," she teases, a finger on his lips silencing any response.

He tries to hold on, tries to not let go, but he knows she hasn't changed her mind when his own armor drags him away from her. Pyrrha steps back, looks back up the tower, and to her own death. Despite her levity, a solemn resolve crosses her features as she prepares herself. She'll rise. She'll fight. And she'll fall, because that's who she is. Who she has to be, to be Pyrrha and almost perfect but not quite invincible and not at all synonymous with a perfect victory.

But he will live, and she'll last long enough for someone else to arrive and do what needs to be done, no matter the cost to her. That is Pyrrha's victory.

"Jaune," she says, preparing to face her fate. "Do you believe in destiny?"

"Pyrrha… no…" he begins, half-hearted because he knows it's useless.

It's not intended as an answer, but she takes it as one.

"I do," Pyrrha says, perfectly serious. "And this is mine."

She spares him one final glance, filled with every emotion she ever had all in one.

"I love you, Jaune."

Pyrrha rises- or more accurately, Jaune falls. Through the floor he'd been standing on, through Beacon, and all the way to Vale as Pyrrha rises further and farther towards the top of the tower. Flashes of fires and the sound of steel reach him, even as he approaches the ground of Vale at a lethal velocity.

Most nightmares end just before you hit the bottom. This one doesn't.

/

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/

Author Notes:

This encapsulates a lot of my thoughts on Pyrrha's fate, and to a lot of the reaction fics. I wasn't sure Pyrrha would die, but I figured Arkos was always doomed. Greek elements and Achilles heel beside, a Pyrrhic victory wouldn't be a happy one for her. I just thought it might have been a loss in that Jaune goes somewhere else with someone else, or with no one at all. Possibly even that Jaune would die at the end, and she'd live. Joan of Arc was burned, after all- but then, Cardin (the Cardinal) didn't have a literal analog either.

Instead, she died, and I think it's clear that was always the intent from the start. Especially when the Maiden plan came in- if Pyrrha had ever become the maiden, a series called RWBY would have been solved by the game-breaking powers of someone not even in the titular cast. Whereas Pyrrha's death truly serves as the disaster and the wake up for the call to adventure, and provides room and a push for Jaune's still-ongoing character plot of growth. So a lot of the fix-fics we're seeing- where a burst of cleverness or presence changes the finale and saves Pyrrha- really just ignores the underlying symbology and themes that the RWBY verse is built in. Oom went to great length for those built-in symbolism, and while I'm not adverse changing the story through fanfiction, I think it's a shame to discard underlying themes for mere gratification. In fiction like RWBY, symbolism is destiny. Jaune and Ruby are the closest things the story has to lead characters, and starting the heroic journey always requires disaster and the removal of the previously relied upon figures of power and authority.

Story analysis aside... I stand by the characterization of Jaune here. Dream-Pyrrha is a bit OOC cause, well, dream, but Jaune's efforts... considering that the defining nature of Arkos was that Jaune was completely unaware of it until Pyrrha kissed him, a lot of the Arkos-themed fix-fics have been shade Jaune's motivations backwards. Everything up to that, he would have done for anyone. And just like he'd worry for his friends, he'd try and save them if they were lost, and go through with things they were more interested in than him. Yeah, Jaune probably would have been happy to have a relationship with Pyrrha after that kiss if she survived- but then, Jaune would probably respond to any interest displayed in such a dramatic and heartfelt moment. Because, again, his treatment and views of her to that were as a friend, not a 'I suddenly realize I romantically loved you all this time,' and that friendliness is why Pyrrha was interested in the first place. Which brings back what dream-Pyrrha says. He'd hardly not play the 'I'll go out with you' card if he thought it might save any of them, even if he didn't feel the same. It's a confession of context, rather than Deep Exclusive Love.

Which is great for me- Jaune's malleability is one of the reasons I love him as a character- but it tends to get glossed over. Jaune's feelings post-Pyrrha are going to be mixed... not least because the first thing Pyrrha does after expressing her feelings, is to completely disregard Jaune's by throwing him away and off to safety, treating him neither like a partner or respecting his feelings. It's not like he didn't expressly confide to her that he was afraid and didn't want to be like that.

Sure, it's love- but that's not always a good enough answer.


	4. Depression

Denial.

It's not a river in Remnant. Just the first stage of coming to terms. Jaune, Pyrrha, and the aftermath of Season 3.

/

Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY. Roosterteeth does, and actually did something good with it.

/

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The Fourth Phase

/

He stops living for awhile, really.

To live to be alive. To have life, which is to have will and purpose. He lacks such things. Technically his heart beats, and his lungs breath, and he even eats if someone puts soup to his mouth and tips his head back so he reflexively swallows. It's a sudden deterioration that sparks alarm in others, but not him because he's beyond such. He doesn't think on it much. He doesn't think at all, really.

Calling him a 'he' is a stretch at this point- there is no masculinity, good or bad, to be acted upon because he does nothing to warrant a response because he does not respond. He does not act like a man, or think like a man, or behave like a man, and so can only be referred to as such because the organic matter of inorganic compounds happens to be formed in such a way that a random chance of genetic chromosomes gave a phallus. It gets used because it must, not because he wills it, and it's just one of the more disgusting causes for a concern he doesn't recognizes. There are worries, and efforts of contacting the last person who saw him before whatever happened happened, but not even the name of his former crush never triggers a reaction.

Instead he lays there. He sits when they make him sit, and falls where he may fall, and doesn't even blink when a tired nurse and bitter doctor consider putting him out of his misery so they can focus on the genuinely suffering instead. His team- what's left of what used to be his team when he was something that could have such- defends him and protects him and ends up caring for him instead. Doing so doesn't bring so much as a smile, which is rather why they have to care lest his organic mass expire.

But why not? What's the point? It's the closest he comes to thinking, but he can't carry the thought through to its conclusion.

Things happen that he bears witness to, but which don't affect him or make him alive. The yellowed-haired girl awakens, and has to be put under when she realizes what she lost, and awakens again. Maybe she would have been better if he'd responded, if he'd offered cheerful words and much-needed optimism, but she soon joins him in silence instead because someone else is gone by the time she wakes again.

The one who leaves- the black haired girl who pretended to be asleep when she thought anyone was paying attention- only stays until the blonde has awoken the first time. She makes to leave in the middle of the night immediately after, and makes the mistake of thinking he's alive just because his eyes happen to be towards the door as she tries to sneak out.

She says words, he'd think if he thought at all. Probably a plea not to stop her, or possibly a wish in sorrowful golden eyes that he would. He doesn't, just as he doesn't remember what she says afterwards. Something important, possibly, if there was anything important left in the world now. All he knows, if that's the word, is that the silence outside his head soon matches the silence inside his mind after she finally leaves for the last time. Leaves him, and the other blonde, and the littlest girl there who is just as alive as him even if his blue eyes open and her silver remain closed. Their breaths synchronize without meaning to, and they're both as alive, and dead, to the world as each other.

When the blonde awakens again, she's shocked. She's hurt. She rages, and she blames him by names he doesn't respond to. But ultimately she joins him in silence, more sullen than he's capable of, though at least she's capable of responding to the boy in green and the two-shade wrong girl who keep disturbing his state of near serenity.

(She's wrong, she's not Her, she's two-shades too light, and it's the closest thing he has to a thought as auburn hair (not deep red) and pink (too light to be confused for crimson) insist on invading the space where his eyes happen to be pointed.)

They feed him. They wash him. They clean him, something that is never mentioned later but which he's too beyond to care now. But most of all they stay with him, even as others leave.

The black-haired girl leaves. The blonde leaves when another blonde arrives, and both take the still sleeping girl out before her silver eyes open once. They leave, as do what's left of the others, as the injured heal or die or move on to other places either way.

Eventually he's last. Left alone, to wither and die if that's what he chooses, because they can't find anything wrong with him physically. But still the boy in green and the two-shade wrong girl come, and care, even though he's closer to a corpse than alive.

"Things are getting better now," two-shades too wrong babbles, as if that were possible in a world where the invincible is broken and love abandons and nightmares never wake up. "People are getting back on their feet and things are getting back to normal except for…" she trails, never able to continue long facing his unblinking stare that doesn't focus on her.

"Except for Beacon," the green boy finishes for her.

"Yeah, that," auburn (not red, not crimson) says, evading the topic. "But the students are doing their best, and the teachers are leading them in protecting Vale from the Grimm approaching, and hey! No classes! So you're safe from roll call for now!" she says, determined to find the silver lining in his thread-bare soul.

There's a sound from his lips, and she freezes in hope, but it's only the passing of wind as his corpse respires.

She talks some more, about silly and inconsequential things, as if trying to speak enough for three so that she can live enough for two. The greenhaired boy helps as well, taking over when her voice cracks and thirst overpowers her, but before she leaves she leans over and puts her arms around him and her head beside hers.

He doesn't wonder if she's sniffing to tell if he needs to be cleaned. She's not. It's merely a hug.

"Pyrrha wouldn't want you to be like this," she whispers, and if there's a hitch in his breath it's so subtle that she never notices. "She'd want you live for her. For yourself. For-"

Whatever else she's going to say is cut off by a cough, her dry lips and drier mouth cutting her off.

"Come back to us, Jaune," is all she can manage, before she flees with uncharacteristic haste and hiding an even less characteristic sob.

The boy in green watches her go, and pink eyes make sure she's gone before they turn towards him, and he steps forward.

"Forgive me for what I'm about to do, Jaune," he says.

And slaps him.

His head turns, and there's more sound than pain- and it must be how he was arranged, because his head rolls back towards the boy in green who is now sitting in front of him.

"Pyrrha didn't die so you could wallow in self-pity," the boy in green declares, as if he knows what she wanted or why she died. "She would be ashamed of you, and call you selfish."

He doesn't glare- and neither does the body across from him- as he continues.

"I don't know if you can hear me," Ren admits. "If your mind is off in some imaginary place, where Pyrrha is alive and things were different and you fulfill some fantasy that you are strong and Pyrrha's death was weak and so you pretend she survived. Pretend that our Beacon days would never end, that we'd be in school forever. That might be a comfortable fantasy, and you might not want to hear me. But if you can-"

"Nora is too nice too, so I'll say it instead," the quiet boy resolves.

He takes a deep breath.

"You are not special, Jaune" he says, "and neither was Pyrrha."

He waits for a response- hoping for an angry reaction- but gets nothing.

"You are not the only one suffering, Jaune" he continues anyway. "And Pyrrha was not the only person who died that day. There are people all across Vale who lost far more than us. Many lost their own lives. But even those that didn't- even those that lost not just friends, but lovers, and family, and equally irreplaceable people- they're carrying on. Even if it hurts, they'll survive, because they keep moving forward and they'll deal with reality. Because they're strong, in a way that has nothing to do with aura or training or weapons."

"Pyrrha dying doesn't mean there's no point in living. Pyrrha died because there was a point in fighting, even if we die- and she would have wanted you to keep trying and live for her if she failed. You can't honor her life if you pretend her death never happened. You can't carry her memory with you if you don't move forward yourself."

Ren looks around the tent. "I know I'm not much of a talker," he admits. "I'm probably doing this wrong. You're probably supposed to be nicer to patients. But you know what, Jaune? I see two ways this can go. You can stay as you are, and continue on this path of rejecting reality. Or you can accept the truth, and become stronger for having overcome adversity rather than fleeing from the consequences of it. You can make something good of this, for Pyrrha."

He stands, finishing his spiel.

"Nora and I will be outside getting food," he informs. "Come outside and join us when you're ready. Or don't. I'd say I don't care which, but that'd be a lie."

Ren sighs, and steps away, but turns at the door for one final word.

"You aren't the only one who lost a friend, Jaune," he says. "But that doesn't mean we want to lose another. We'll be waiting for you."

Ren leaves. He stays. His breathing barely changes, just one atypical rattle for no reason he can comprehend, and no thoughts cross his mind, because he's honestly not ready to think yet.

But after a few minutes, his body moves anyway.

The sheet is picked up by numb fingers. Lead-like legs with muscles on the cusp of atrophy swing over and onto the floor. The rest of his mass rises, shaky as it is. Its slow fall forward is stopped only when a heavy leg shuffles forward into one long, staggering step.

It's a weak example, but a step forward all the same, and soon followed by another as he steps towards the door, and the light outside, and pushes through the flap that serves as a door.

The light is blinding, and eyes shut as tears of pain come forth, but the head turns towards the sounds of familiar voices and finds and sees the boy in green and the girl in the wrong shades of red to be Her but who is in the right shades to be herself and what she needs to be. Distinctive, loving, and alive, lively enough for two and willing for three, even if she is leaning into the green-boy's chest and possibly sobbing in grief.

Maybe she'll be willing to share with him. For him. Or who he used to be, and could be again.

He stumbles towards them, looking only at them, and not caring about the rest of anyone else who stops and stares as he shambles towards them. Maybe he bumps into one, but he truly doesn't notice.

They notice the silence of the observers before they notice him, and when they turn they watch him in surprise as he comes closer. The green boy- no, he's a man he corrects, and it's the closest thing to a thought he's had in who knows how long- looks grateful. But the auburn haired girl next to him looks desperate in relief, and already-shed tears threaten to cascade down a smile so wide it threatens to crack with a sob.

He falls onto the bench beside them, tired beyond reason. He says nothing. Does nothing. He simply stares down at the table and the empty spot in front of him and waits.

As if on cue, his stomach growls. The sound sends the auburn-haired girl jumping up, slamming her hands on the table.

"I'll get food!" Nora exclaims, too many hints of her earlier despair in just how frantic she sounds now in her excitement. "Pancakes!" she thinks in a shout, looking for the nearest source possible. "Someone bring me pancakes!" she demands, nearly hysterical as if the fate of a friend depends on it.

And who knows? Maybe it does.

People jump into action regardless, as people tend to do when a maiden with a war hammer is hollering at you and waving said war hammer around with great urgency, but it all seems so distant. So far away. But real all the same.

The sound of something scraping against wood precedes the sight of a basket of bread sliding into his vision. There's only one loaf there, already broken and half eaten, likely abandoned because the crust is overcooked and hard and the broken edges look like shards, but it is there and being offered by the cuff of a green sleeve.

He looks up the sleeve, and sees pink eyes that some might mock as girly but are truly just as strong and empathetic and even compassionate despite earlier harsh words and hard views forged by an occasionally cruel world.

"Eat," Ren urges. "The rest can come later."

Jaune looks back at the heart-breakingly broken piece of bread, reaches for it, and does.

/

* * *

/

Author Note:

Depression is a sad thing to thing to see, and a worse thing to feel, because it can be a thinking trap that consumes you. Everyone handles it in their own way, but you should never handle it alone. When some people shut down, even if only for awhile...


	5. Acceptance

Denial.

It's not a river in Remnant. Just the first stage of coming to terms. Jaune, Pyrrha, and the aftermath of Season 3.

/

Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY. Roosterteeth does, and actually did something good with it.

/

* * *

/

The Fifth and Final Phase

/

Jaune knocks at a certain cottage door far away.

He's alive again. He doesn't smile as much anymore- not yet, and maybe not ever again as wounds of the heart take long to heal and sometimes callous over instead- but he's alive and he smiles sometimes and that's enough for now. For now he waits, hearin the sounds of footsteps on the other side, and deliberately stares hard at the door rather than look at the bounty of nature and-

- _see_ _a flash of dark red and crimson smile and a laugh as wind rushes through the leaves of forever falls and-_

-and ruin his mood.

The door swings open, and a less painful shade of red appears, one that frames silver eyes. And if Jaune smiles a bit less than he once used to, it's no less sincere.

"Hey, Ruby," he greets. "Good to see you up again."

She pauses for half a heart beat, as if not believing he's really there and on his feet, and then impulsively hugs him. It surprises him at how tight it is, but slowly he returns it and her grip relaxes in a bit of relief. He's not the only one who's been worried.

"Hey Jaune," Ruby returns when she lets go, not ashamed and bypassing any embarassment as she hurries to act as a good host. "Come on in. Take off your armor. How was the trip? Any Grimm? Did you see my dad? He had to go on a trip with Uncle Qrow and asked me to look after Yang today. Can I offer you anything to drink?" she offers in one long rush of words. "We have milk- wait, no, I drank that- and Dad doesn't keep alcohol anymore, and Uncle Qrow wouldn't share if he did, but I think we still have… water?" she almost sounds meekly embarrassed. "Can I offer you water?"

"The trip was fine," Jaune says, laughing at her worry, and really it was. Only three Ursa in an abandoned shack he'd used for shelter, a Grimm den indeed, and it hadn't even been much of a challenge. One had been too small to offer a threat. One had been too big to fit in, and had gotten stuck in the door frame and been easily dispatched. And the last one was just right for fitting in, but compared to an ursa major-

- _panting, pained, but **proud** , Jaune turned and finally saw her. Them, really, but she was first and foremost- the red leaves didn't hide her presence, or her look at the decomposing grimm corpose behind him, and Jaune simultaneously wanted to boast of his accomplished and feared a belittlement. She could have done so much more so much better. But instead she smiled, and applauded, and he relished his partner's approval as Pyrh-_

-compared to some things he'd fought before, it was nothing.

"I didn't see your father, and water would be great," he finishes, parched from the road. Alcohol would be better, but only if drunken with friends, and even if he and Ren and Nora had split one pilfered from a ruined store no one had reclaimed, he wouldn't give it to Ruby. Not yet, not when she was- still- a bit more young and a bit more innocent than the rest of them. She hadn't seen the aftermath of Beacon, hadn't had to clean the streets of more than rubble, and he hopes she never will.

Ruby gives him an odd look, but agreed to his request, and encourages him to look around while she got glasses. Judging by a non-cursing curse, and the sound of frantic scrubbing under a running faucet, what she had found wasn't clean enough. Jaune doesn't mind, but wanders around, and looks at the hanging frames and little mementos and evidence of Ruby's childhood, including the little stuffed grimm on her shelves.

It sends a small smile to his face. Who wanted toys of the monsters of Grimm, the boogie-beasts of bedtime tales? Little girls who dream of being Huntresses, apparently- and probably whacked them with sticks in the course of games, if the patches and dings and glued on pieces were any clue.

He wanders, noting this and that, until he notices an incompletely closed door. Curiosity overcomes him, and Jaune opens it and sticks his head in with the intention of pulling back out and shutting it completely if nothing is there.

Yang's head has already from the window and watches him, and instead of pulling his head out the rest of Jaune's body is pulled in. His eyes take her in- laying in bed, no hint of the heat or flame that had once lit her, cradling a useless stump- even as she takes him in in turn.

She speaks first.

"You're back up," she notes, neither approving or disapproving and not even relieved.

"I had help," he admitted, mind flashing back to Ren and Nora.

"Why?" Yang asks, simple and direct.

"Because they cared," Jaune said, thinking of the Bad Period which might never be mentioned again but bound them closer forevermore.

"No, I mean, why did you get back up?" Yang clarifies. "Why not stay down if you're beat?"

That was a harder one to answer, but his lips move even before his mind knows what they're going to say.

"Because I cared," he says, even if he hadn't realized it at the time. "I couldn't stop when so much was still so wrong."

He might have needed help to restart- to be put back together when not just Pyrrha but so much of his world was ripped away- but that didn't make what he said a lie.

Not a lie, but not satisfactory. Yang gives a harumph, and turns away still cradling a missing hand and looking out a window at a forest he still can't look at without trailing off. Something scratches at the edge of his mind- the cat-like eyes of a girl saying something that he hadn't been of the mind to remember, something that had seemed pointless at the time but which might have every point now and makes him wish he could remember the Bad Time and struggling since he can't.

That's how Ruby finds them moments- or maybe minutes- later. Silent, staring, and in their own worlds of thoughts and memories, if not fantasies of power and perfection and total victories.

"Oh, there you are Jaune!" Ruby exclaims, pulling him out gently but insistently. "Sorry about that Yang- didn't mean to bother you! We'll go and let you rest now," Ruby promises before closing the door and sighing once it had and sliding down a bit against it as the burst of false cheer fades.

"Sorry about that," Ruby apologizes. "Yang's not… doing well," she fills.

"It's alright," Jaune reassures. "She just needs time and support, and she'll be alright when she's ready," Jaune promises with the authority of personal experience.

"Are you?" Ruby asks. "Alright, I mean?"

Jaune holds up his gloved hand and smiles as if gladly swearing an oath. "All healed. You can hardly see the scar anymore."

That wasn't what she had meant, and he knew it, but she accepts the dodge for now. She leads him to a chair, and sits across from him, and they hold their glasses of water as they get down to business.

"So, what brings you here, Jaune?" she asks, even if she knows. She'd sent the message of her own awakening herself, after all.

"Can't I come visit a friend who just woke up after a long winter's nap?" he asked, pretending to be hurt.

Ruby wrinkles her nose. "It wasn't that long," she denied. Only half of fall. The leaves haven't even finished falling yet.

"It was long enough," Jaune denies, and he leans over and reaches out and grabs her hand. It's real, she's real, and he's completely honest when he looks her in the eye and says, "I'm glad you're alright, Ruby. I came as soon as I heard you woke up." And Nora would be relieved to heard she truly was alright, and not just lying, but his own reasons were good enough.

Ruby looks down, less embarrassed and more ashamed that people were making such a fuss over her. Silver eyes have a doubt, and a guilt. That she shouldn't be worth such worry. That if she had been, that if she was worthy of that conceern, she should have been good enough to save the day, and that Pyr-

 _-Do you believe in destiny?-_

-that Pyrrha would still be alive.

"Jaune," she begins, looking him in the eyes with sorrowful silver, "I'm s-"

"It's Cinder's fault," Jaune says, interrupting her and what she was about to say. "Not yours. Not mine."

 _-I do.-_

"And not Pyrrha's. Just Cinder's, and anyone else who helped her," he affirms. "We can beat her up for this," he begins, even if he knew they probably couldn't, but they could at least try, "but there's no reason to beat up ourselves when we know who's to blame. It's alright, Ruby," he reassured.

Ruby looked back down at the cup in her hands, but a certain tension in her shoulders was gone and if she gives what might have been a sniffle there are no tears in her eyes. It occurs to him that she's barely been up a week yet- that for her, it hasn't been that long. That she's far behind them, and might not have grieved. If he'd exploded, if he'd blamed her, she might have believed it.

But he doesn't, and she believes that too. That's the trust they had. Have. Will have going forward.

"She's in Haven. Or was," Ruby blurts, still looking down. "Cinder, I mean."

Jaune leans back a little. Ah, yes- the other reason for his trip. The hint, the clue, which Ruby wrote about and offered to share, but hadn't wanted to risk writing down. He'd have come anyway- he meant what he said about his relief- but even if he hadn't cared for Ruby at all he would have come for that clue. The hint of Cinder's trail.

"Uncle Qrow let it slip," Ruby explains to her cup of water. "I'm not sure he meant to, but I think he might have wanted us to know. To go after her, even if he couldn't."

"We will," Jaune resolved. "JNPR-"

- _'led by Jaune Arc,' Ozpin was saying, but Jaune was dazed and could hardly believe it, couldn't believe he'd gotten in and survived and gotten such an amazing partner, even as Pyrrha put her hand on his shoulder and gave him a congratulatory smile while-_

"-Ren, Nora, and I," he corrects, "will join you, whenever you're ready."

Ruby looks back down at her cup. (When had she been looking back up?) "I'm not sure when that will be," she admitted. "Uncle Qrow wants to test a few things, see if I can tap my power. And I don't want to leave Yang alone right now either," she admitted. She wants Yang to get better again, like Jaune had. Wants her sister there, if at all possible.

"Then don't," Jaune said. "Do what you can while you can. Once we leave for Haven, there's no turning back. If Yang's up for it, that'd be great."

And if she isn't-

"Besides," he adds, putting that decision off a little longer, "I could use a little more time myself. I'm-" his breath catches, but he pushes through. "I'm still trying to get used to fighting alone."

Alone. Without a partner. Same thing.

"You're not alone, Jaune," Ruby reaches out, putting her hand on his this time. "I lost my partner too. We're in this together."

A retort comes to his lips- that her partner isn't dead, that Weiss is just across half of Remnant, that Ruby knows nothing of what he's going through- but he keeps it. It's like Ren said. He isn't the only one to have lost a friend, and no one wants to lose another.

"I guess I'll work on my sprints, then," Jaune says instead, with a little laugh. "Wouldn't want to slow you down and be left behind."

Ruby gives a mixed smile, hearing the word he hadn't added- _again_ \- and not appreciating the self-deprecating humor. But it was a laugh, and is a smile, and she squeezes in solidarity.

"I won't," she promises, promising too many things at once. Not to leave him behind, safe in a tree or locker or whatever it may be.. Not to slow down. But perhaps most importantly, not to send him away to die on her own and leave him behind once again.

If she goes back on that word- if he loses another of his precious friends so soon- he doesn't know what he'll be like next time. Maybe he'll handle it better. Possibly he'll break worse. He doesn't want to know.

"Good," he says, and the topic turns to other things. To how Beacon has officially ended as the Teachers and the remaining students rally to contain and try and chip away at the Grimm occupying the dorms they once called home. To how Nora is happy to hear that Ruby has awakened at long last, and will probably give her a bone-bruising hug when she sees her in person.

Even to what Weiss, with her last words and thoughts, had wished Ruby to know. Ruby quiets, and smiles softly to herself, and if she looks longingly in the direction of Atlas Jaune doesn't feel too jealous as a touch of something darker brushes against his bruised but beating heart.

Jaune doesn't stay and chat much longer, doesn't intend to stay the night. If he hurries, he could get back to that ursa den he'd cleared out, and from there be back at Vale in two days if he really focuses. The road will give him time to himself and to gather his thoughts as well. It's with sincere sorrow at parting, but no regret about leaving, that Jaune stands up and puts his cup down and they make their way to the door.

As they part, promising to stay in touch by letter until they were ready, Jaune puts on his armor and attaches his sword and prepares to head out the door, while Ruby gives her parting words.

"-and stick to the roads," Ruby warns, repeating what her Uncle had once warned her. "At least until you get to the woodsmen cottages. Don't stay at the Iron Inn- the beds there are murder, and Dad had to clear out a nasty bandit from there a few years ago. And don't be afraid to send a messenger bird back if you run out of money or need help. I'll keep an eye out and hurry over if you have any trouble. And-"

"Ruby," Jaune interrupts, finishing tightening a greave and looking at her with fond exasperation. "I'll be fine. I got here, didn't I? I can handle myself."

"I know," Ruby replies after a pause, even if she has to remind herself to believe it at times. "I'm just- are you sure you don't want to stay the night?" she offers. "You can use Dad's bed if he's not back tonight, and the couch if he is, and it might help Yang if someone she knew was here, and-"

Jaune doubts his presence would matter if Ruby's hasn't, but he understands the intent. Ruby is on the cusp of leaving her family, and doesn't want to lose a friend just yet. Even if it's only for a short time.

"It's fine, Ruby," Jaune reassures, turning to open the door and head out into autumn sunset. "I-"

- _the setting sun shines clean and pure, bouncing off the fall leaves and turning them into a mix of crimson and copper. Wind whispers through the leaves, laughing as she does despite the training, as a sense of dejavu makes him sense Pyrrha's presence to his left even as she maneuvers behind him and tops his shoulder in warning before reaching around him to supplex him but feeling as loving as a hug as she warns him and says his name as she squeezes and-_

"Jaune? Jaune?"

He's still standing in the doorway, the door is still open, but the sun is further down in the sky than it was a few minutes ago. An autumn chill has filled the room, with it a few leaves having blown in, but what really brings him back are the arms around him from behind, holding him tightly and gently.

"Ruby?" he asks, pretty sure but caught in the force of the memory. It wouldn't be the first time on this trip that one memory had led to another- how a three day trip had taken nearly a week-

"Yes!" Ruby cries into his back, trying to suppress the relief and worry all rolled into one. "Jaune, are you-" she pauses, and thinks better of it, not wanting to offend his pride or receive a predictable denial.

"Jaune, is it really okay?" she asks instead, arms still around him, head still pushing into his back, and forehead indistinguishable from another's.

The autumn chill alone isn't what brings tears to his eyes.

"No, it's not," he admits, fists curled and shaking from more than just a late autumn chill.

"It's not okay. I'm not okay. The world's not okay. The world's not right, Pyrrha's dead, Cinder's not caught, and I can't accept that!" His voice raises, his fists curl tighter, and the scar beneath his glove stings- but this time there's no metal in his hand and no blood follows and the phantom of a gentle hand over his uncurls his own as if magnetically.

"It's not okay, and I can't accept it yet," Jaune admits, calming down.

There's another silence, as Ruby doesn't know what to say or what she can do without making things worse rather than better, but she wants to make it better, and it's up to Jaune to take the first step in this case.

He steps forward, out of her arms, and Ruby watches him step away in concern, and watches in naked relief when he closes the door instead of passing through it.

The door shuts, and Jaune turns, and though it's hard and he starts looking down Jaune makes himself look up and meet Ruby's eyes.

"Ruby," he begins, "could I- could I take you up on that offer?" he asks with a crack in his voice and an uncertain expression on his face. It's an expression of tentative outreach, not of need as in dependence or want as in lust, but desire for a friend and a shoulder and even a hope for healing.

"I… don't want to be alone right now," he admits. "Would you mind if I stayed the night?"

Ruby sniffles, and rubs her arm against her eyes, and while there might be tears later and her own grieving as well she gives him the best smile she can for now.

"Of course."

Jaune smiles back, putting everything he can into it as well.

"Thank you."

The world doesn't fix itself that night. Pyrrha doesn't come back from the dead, Yang doesn't leap from her bed healed and unharmed and furious at the sound of her sister's tears, an absent father and busy uncle don't return home to comically misunderstand the mutual comfort and shared remembrance of two friend for a lost third and many more missing. The hurts don't disappear, and aren't erased or overwritten by a favoring hand.

The world doesn't fix itself, but the survivors heal themselves, just a little bit more. Pyrrha doesn't come back, but she is with them as they remember her for who she was and not what she was perceived to be or wished to be by others. Yang doesn't return a fiery protector, but when she passes on her way to the bathroom at night she acknowledges their existence, and when she passes back she sits quietly in the room for a time as they remember Pyrrha, and at some point after Jaune and Ruby cry and fall asleep on the couch against each other a yellow blanket covers them both till the morning. No overprotective parent awakens them with demands of propriety, but in the morning there is a warm breakfast that Taiyang provides as he gives Jaune a nod of acknowledge and a look of gratitude and offers to lend Jaune a jacket to replace the still-soggy and slightly slimy hoodie that proves that Jaune hadn't been the only one working through grief. Taiyang offers to wash it, a trick to ensure that Jaune comes again to reclaim it, proving that even if the past can't be re-written there are still future stories waiting to be told. Such as the small tale of how when Jaune ate his breakfast and a bowl of cereal Tiayang didn't even realize whose image was on the box until Ruby came down and stared in horror at the smiling mascot. At least until Jaune saw her and greeted her and offered to pour her a bowl of Pumpkin Pete's himself, the breakfast of Champions and one Pyrrha Nikos in particular.

(The box is kept, well after the cereal is finished, and the bit of cardboard with the champion's form is bagged and placed in a memory box and withdrawn more than once over the years and decades to come.)

By mid-morning Jaune is back at the door, back at the portal, and back to putting on his arms and armor as he prepares to return to Vale and his team and do what he can until it's time to leave. Once more Ruby is behind him, and watches with a hint of concern as he prepares himself to open the door.

"Jaune, is it okay?" she asks once more, offering to share more comfort if he needs to. "If you're tired, you can stay another day…"

"It's not okay," Jaune confesses. "Pyrrha's still gone, and Cinder's still free, and the world's not right. I can't accept that," he admits, and Ruby reaches out in worry, but she doesn't need to. "I can't accept it," he repeats.

"But I can work on it," Jaune resolves, and steps forward.

He reaches out and opens the door and looks out into the world and into the still-red forest. Even without its champion and with every reason to mourn, the sun still shines and the sky is clear and even though the fall leaves are still there- red and orange and copper and with wind whispering like unheard words and the hint of the laugh- for once it brings something other than pain.

Jaune Arc gives his final farewell, returns to Vale in less time than it took him to come here, and is able to appreciate the red and copper while he can before it falls.

All he has to do is keep moving forward.

/

 _Fin_

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Author Note:

The last and longest. It grew on me, and grew, but I thought it was for the better. I realized I hadn't written of Jaune sharing grief with friends, not really, nor did Ruby have a real chance to, and yet that's such an important part of grieving. 'Acceptance' doesn't mean being okay with losing someone, but it clearly what they've all tentatively reached by the end of season 3.

All phases were written for drama effect, not just 'realism' for a certain sense of versimilitude, as should have been obvious from chapter one where Jaune is in denial about Pyrrha even though canon leaves off with him quite clearly aware that Pyrrha has no chance. Similar to the manifestation of anger, and the semi-mystic dream sequence. These might not be 'realistic' in how Jaune specifically responded- I'd be surprised if they don't use it as a character point in season 4- but they are realistic of how people in general can respond, and in this case that had the better purpose (considering Jaune is a projection character) even as each phase emphasized extremes. Even acceptance came with exceptional maturity. Handling grief isn't a matter of never feeling these ways- such as shell-shocked from grief and emotional trauma- but in carrying through and doing better going forward.

Overall, a story that encapsulates my feels of the Season 3 ending and reaction rather well. I don't think it was a mistake, and while I do appreciate a good story as much as the next person, the legion of fix-fics that have spawned... more or a reaction than a solution. Some of the better fics I've seen since have run with the ending, rather than run away from it, and I suppose you could say that was my intent here.

Overall, no regrets, I enjoyed writing it, hope you enjoyed reading it, please share your thoughts and leave a review, etc. etc. etc.


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